


Moonlit Desires

by apathetical



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Female Derek Hale, Girl Derek/Stiles Stilinski, Girl!Derek, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-02-19 12:17:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2387969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apathetical/pseuds/apathetical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Average highschooler Scott McCall attains the bite of an alpha werewolf and inherits the curse himself, and must learn to defend himself from the enemies and trials to come with it with the help of the mysterious werewolf, Derika Hale and his best friend, Stiles. [Fem!Derek. Season 1 - Eventual Season 4. Sterek.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1x01 (Part 1)

The night was surprisingly tranquil, given the frenzied red and blue lights flashing in just a few miles. But Beacon Hills seemed so far away, even as the black sedan teethered close, just about a mile or two away. The brunette's hands were trained against the wheel, her features carefully controlled to a neutral expression. But there was a flicker of emotion that cracked her collected exterior; a simple flash of worry. For Laura. The older sister who had to pick herself up in order to put her little sister back to pieces. Derika began to gnaw against her lower lip, tasting the metallic tinge of blood against her tongue, a whirlwind of emotions spinning off axis within the confines of her mind. For a brief moment, the young Hale squeezed her eyes together, valiant efforts put forward in fighting off the rush of emotions coming to ride.   
  
Tires screeched against the smooth disposition of the road in that split second Derika was distracted, but she managed to pull herself together through mere instinct. She gained control of the car just enough to pass the 'Welcome to Beacon Hills' sign, exhaling a soft sigh. Truth be told, this was the last place Derika Hale expected to find herself. Not even a minute back here and the unpleasant memories were already beginning to surface. However, the young wolf forced them back at bay.   
  
Nothing had really changed, she thought to herself as an electric blue flooded viridescent irises, observing their surroundings with only half the interest. However, it was the parked police car in the distance that caused her to pull over and kill the engine. A slender hand smoothed down the front of her shirt, moving on to fix the collar of her jacket after having alighted the vehicles. She raised her head and sniffed the air, almost automatically recoiling. Blood. Laura. Everything seemed to happen in such an ambiguous sequence. The shock was soon followed by rage, her eyes flashing. Jaw clenched in an effort to keep her true form appeased, which was doing next to nothing.   
  
The soft rustling of leaves caught her attention, causing the brunette's head to jerk up. She focused on the voices from the men emerging. All seemed to be police officers, with the exception of one, who sounded more like a teenager. The young Hale sank back into the shadows. She tried to ignore Sherriff Stilinski (wasn't he Deputy before her and Laura left town?) reprimanding his son to focus onto the conversation of the others.   
  
 _"her body was ripped in half..."_  That particular phrase struck out rather obtrusively to Derika, who pressed herself against the trunk of the tree, shutting her eyes close for a moment. She wasn't stupid. Laura's blood all over the place, a woman found ripped in half? Everything was piecing together perfectly. Only Derika wasn't satisfied with her answer. Head hung low, a howl pierced the night's silence as soon as they had driven off, singing a song that bled sorrow. Sharp teeth protruded from the young woman's mouth, baring them in anguish as the first onslaught of tears began, the waterworks flowing freely across her cheeks. No words, nor actions could capture the distress, the pain she felt. Heart thudding dully against her chest, Derika turned towards the forest and ran, following the dwindling scent of her fallen sister.

 

* * *

  
  
Morning came and went, and so did the rest of the day.  
  
Derika hadn't slept a wink.  
  
It was a miracle the young Hale managed to maintain a composed disposition, as question upon question nagged at the back of her mind. Burying her sister was the only welcome back Beacon Hills had offered her, accompanied by the looming threat of an alpha on the move. And he worked fast. Somebody had already been bit, and Derika suspected it had been last night as well. Her finger traced the outline of the inhaler, through the leathered exterior of her jacket.   
  
"And that's not the only weird thing. I.. hear stuff I'm not supposed to hear, smell things..."  
  
Her head raised, unable to tell which direction the voice, clearly male, was coming from. Nevertheless, her ears pricked, listening in for more.   
  
"Hear things? Like what?"  
  
The second voice was more prominent, more given to the fact that they were gaining closer. She also recognized him from last night. The Sheriff's son. The young Hale sighed, turning on her heel and starting in the direction of the boys.  
   
 _"So all this started with the bite?"_  
  
She stopped in her tracks, forehead creasing. One hand braced against the bark of a tree. So this was the guy who was bitten last night. And he was still a kid. Probably in high school.   
  
"It's like... my body's flooding with adrenaline before I go into shock or something."  
  
"You know.. I actually think I've heard of this.. It's a specific kind of infection."  
  
"You--- You're serious?"  
  
"Yeah, I think it's called... lycanthropy."  
  
Now Derika couldn't help but roll her eyes. She felt as though she was listening to a really horrible podcast. If only he knew how painstakingly right he was, and shouldn't make a joke out of it.   
  
"What's that, is it bad?"   
  
"Oh yeah, it's bad. But only once a month."  
  
"Once a month?"  
  
"On the night of the full moon." He then went on to imitate a wolf's howl. "Hey, you the one who heard a wolf howling."  
  
At this point, the brunette had resigned from following this extremely downhill conversation, and was now trying her best to block them out. But cursed enhanced hearing triumphed.  
  
"If he did, then I hope he left my inhaler, those things cost like eighty bucks."  
  
Derika looked down, drumming her fingers against the trunk of the tree. It almost snagged off a piece of her nail. Maybe it was time to show herself. She turned, and appeared before them both.   
  
A few seconds passed before either noticed the third presence. It was the Sherriff's son to look up first, startled by her appearance. Almost automatically, he leaned over and tapped the new wolf,  _Scott_ , on the shoulder. From his crouched position, the boy sprung up, equally as surprised as his friend.   
  
The young wolf assumed she must have made quite the intimidating picture as she approached them. Despite her height and slim build, the woman exuded an aura of danger. She was clad only in jeans, a soft black cotton shirt and a jacet of the same color over her shoulders. But it wasn't the clothes, but the expression she wore. Derika's mouth was pulled into a grim line, her countenance the epitome of stoic.   
  
"What're you doing here?" she asked in annoyance, emerald gaze narrowing upon the pair. "Huh?"  
  
The Sheriff's son suddenly turned sheepish, pocketing one hand and rubbing at the nape of his neck with the other. If she didn't any better, she would have thought he was trying to check her out.   
  
Brunette tendrils tossed back as she turned her gaze to them once more, deciding to elaborate, "This is private property."  
  
"Uh... sorry, we didn't know," the sherriff's son answered uneasily, going slightly pink in the face.   
  
Scott spoke up, in a quiet voice. "Yeah, we were just looking for something, uh.."   
  
Derika raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.  
  
Scott shook his head slightly, seeming a bit flustered, "You can just forget it."  
  
The young woman again restrained herself from rolling her eyes, pulling out his inhaler from her jacket and tossing it his way. She then turned and walked away. Derika didn't even need to look back in order to know that one of them was opening gaping at her. It didn't take a genius to figure out which.   
  
"Dude, that was Derika Hale!" She heard the Sheriff's son blurt out as soon as he thought she was out of hearing distance.   
  
"You know, you remember right, she's only like a few years older than us. She was hot.. She still is but that's besides the point. "  
  
"Wait, Stiles, remember what?"   
  
"Her family? You remember, they all burned to death in a fire like ten years ago."  
  
"Wonder what she's doing back.."  
  
I'm pretty sure you'll find out soon, she thought to herself grimly, slowly making her way back to the Hale House. She had a lot of catching up to do. And that included doing a background check on a certain teenager.

* * *

 


	2. 1x01 (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We're brothers now."

Derika had followed Scott to Stiles's house. Stalking wasn't exactly something she was proud of at this moment, but then again talking to him was not an option either. Besides, she had been careful enough not to be seen, by him and also others. Remaining unseen hadn't really involved effort, considering the amount of times the lanky teenager had nearly fallen off his back. Suppressing laughter, however, that had definitely been an issue.

Currently, the diminutive female leaned against the wall, arms folded over her chest. She could clearly hear most of the boys' conversation. Stiles was speaking quite animatedly, so it was a bit difficult to decipher what he was trying to say. But Derika did hear her name mention a few times in there, which did anything but baffle her. Of course she was a suspect. Her timing had been impeccable. Part of her was beginning to believe that Laura's killer had been counting on that.

"No.. werewolves."

The clear tone of Stiles' voice resounded against her ears. Derika's gaze sidelined to the window, lower lip caught between her teeth. Perhaps her earlier perception of the boy had been off. For someone with no contact or notions of the supernatural, he sure was quick on the uptake. She hoped he could talk some sense into Scott, but that was highly unlikely.

"The change can be caused by anger or anything that rises your pulse. Alright?! I haven't seen anyone raise your pulse like Allison does."

Derika groaned. Right now, she was supposed to be grieving for her sister, finding out who the mystery alpha was, not babysitting the new werewolf cub on the block. But... if Scott shifted and hurt some girl tonight, it won't only be him going down. She had to do the right thing, no matter how reluctant she was towards getting involved with the mess of this train wreck some alpha managed to create.

The loud slam managed to jar her out of her thoughts. Scott's rage and annoyance was at it's peak, Derika could feel it. Luckily, the young Hale didn't need to intervene, for the boy managed to take control of his actions just in the nick of time. It would have been awkward having to explain why she was spying on them in the first place, so Derika was a able to let out a sigh of relief.

"I'm going to that party," She heard Scott say forcibly on a parting note, the only sounds left was the heavy breathing of the other boy and his footsteps. "I'm sorry."

And that was when Derika Hale decided that she was going to be there at that party.

* * *

 

_"The kids are disco-dancing, they're tired of rock and roll..."_

The beat of 'The Internet Killed the Video Star' reverberated quite moderately, keeping the party very much alive. Scott and who Derika assumed was Allison both walked in together, surveying the scene. There wasn't much going on, besides all the underage dancing and pushing and grinding against one another. Derika stood at the side near one of the palm trees. She raised her head, purposely locking eyes with Scott. The dog behind her began it's bout of loud barking again, causing the brunette to turn to give the canine a look. Scott's eyes hadn't left her, which was why her fairly neutral gaze returned to his.

"You okay?" Allison asked, causing the boy's attention to return to her.

"What? Yeah," Scott replied a bit distractedly, his line of sight turning back to the stoic female once more, as though apprehensive of her mere presence. In the time his eyes had strayed, Derika had already disappeared, gracefully jumping across the roof and out of sight. This way she was able to keep an eye on him better, and Scott wouldn't know she was still here. He may act like it from the short span of time she had known him, but Derika knew Scott wasn't stupid. Only he was jumping to all the wrong conclusions and ignoring what was right in front of him.

The song switched to a simple fast-paced beat, which most of the teenagers accepted graciously as a chance to take things up a notch. Jackson and Lydia were practically executing softcore porn at the nearby wall. But Derika wasn't the least interested in them. Elbows leaning against her jean-clad knees, her eyes flashed a bright cerulean whilst carefully observing Allison and Scott engaging in their dance, absolutely immensed in one another. It almost made her simper, but not quite. Instead, her mouth stretched into a grimace. It was already starting. Scott shied away from Allison, muttering something that Derika didn't seem fit of importance before disappearing into the throng of people and outside of the house.

In a lithe series of movement, the young Hale sprang from the topmost roof to the lower one, gracefully landing on her feet. The dog, tamed to her presence, didn't bat an eyelid as the female skirted past a few people.

"Allison," she called out to the younger girl whilst approaching, raising her head, "I'm a friend of Scott's. My name's Derika."

She offered the girl a smile as she turned, still confused as to why Scott had left so abruptly. "Uh... hey," Allison replied, albeit distractedly, "Hey, you wouldn't happen to know why he left, do you?"

The diminutive brunette shook her head, feigning a contemplative expression. "I don't know, Allison... Maybe he wasn't feeling well?" She asked, lifting her shoulders in a small shrug. Derika then glanced up at the other girl, "I can give you a ride home if you want, if that's what you're worrying about," she offered.

Allison smiled softly, nodded her head as her arm folded across her stomach. "Sure, thanks, Derika."

"No problem," Derika offered over her shoulder as she started over to her car, Allison soon following at her side. And of course, Stiles just has to be walking up at the same time.

"Hey, Derika, Allison..." he offered hesitantly as he passed, eyes briefly looking up her figure in a way that made Derika want to redden and knock his teeth out at the same time.

Allison offered a simple wave and smile whilst the older woman reluctantly replied with a, "Goodbye, Stiles."

Though, she would admit to feeling extremely guilty at the disheartened expression the boy wore, which only worsened when his eyes fell upon the redhead and the jock making out like nobody's business.

Derika sighed, softly tugging Allison along by the elbow, who had also been observing the usually extroverted teenager with a small frown upon her cherubic features. "C'mon. Let's go."

* * *

 

Although it had stung to be outwardly rejected by Derika (who, by the way, still scared the living crap out of him) and then met with the image of Lydia and Jackson going at it immediately after, Stiles no longer saw it as something of importance whilst the crisis of one lost, possibly werewolf Scott lost in a room full of people. Which was why he was very much relieved having come across the bathrooms. He rapped against the door, hoping for an answer.

Which was soon received.

"Go away.." Was the weak sound of his best friend's voice.

Stiles' mouth pulled into a frown, the concern evident in his voice as he spoke, "Scott?!" He tried and tried desperately at the lock, managing to finally get it open, only to have Scott push back. "Let me in, Scott, I can help!"

Through the sliver of space still open at the door, Stiles could see Scott shaking his head. "No," Scott replied firmly, "Listen, you gotta find Allison.."

"Don't worry about Allison, she's fine... I saw her get a ride from the party," Stiles replied quickly, eager to get his best friend the hell out of this party and somewhere else where he can... shift. It sounded so strange, even in his head. "She - She's totally fine, alright.."

"No, I think I know who it is," his best friend insisted, but Stiles was having none of that. "Dude- Just let me in, we can talk -"

"It's Derika, Derika Hale is the werewolf, she's the one who bit me, she's the one that killed the girl in the woods.." After that mouthful, all Stiles could hear was Scott's heavy breathing while he was left to process all of that. Great. Just great..

"Scott... Derika's the one who drove Allison from the party," he replied hesitantly. The door then slammed shut on him. He tried the lock immediately, find it locked this time. "Scott? Scott?!" He called out, rapping incessantly against the door with his fist. Even though he knew Scott was probably gone by now.

* * *

 

Meanwhile, Derika had already driven Allison home. The ride had been moderately uneventful, with only a few questions and answers in between. Being so different, Allison and Derika simply had nothing to talk about. But that didn't mean they didn't have to be polite with one another. And Allison didn't seem too bad, being an Argent and all.

After both had said their cordial goodnights, the young Hale proceeded to drive herself hoe after. She didn't stick around to entertain the welcoming committee. Halfway on the drive home, the brunette noticed Allison had left her jacket in the car. Instead of driving back and giving it back, Derika decided to teach the new cub on the block a little lesson instead.

The diminutive female leaned casually against one of the many trees, giving the forested area a quick look around whilst waiting for the appearance of Scott. Allison's jacket hung upon one of the branches. Like bait. Something Derika was feeling quite proud of herself for right now.

Especially when Scott came bounding in a fit of what felt like rage. Immediately, his eyes went to the jacket hung precariously against the branch. "Where is she..." he growled, eyes flashing a golden hue.

"She's safe. From you," Derika replied simply as her frame loomed out from the darkness, and in a flash, she was on the young Beta. They tumbled down together, until Derika forcibly grabbed the taller male by the shoulders and slammed him up against one of the trees.

For a moment, Scott just glared at her, but was short lived as he attempted catching his breath. "What did you do to her?!" he demanded, tone accusatory.

"Fine..." Derika sighed, holding Scott firmly into place, a hand splayed across his chest as she looked up, ears pricked for sound. "Too late, they're already here, run!" she commanded in a hushed whisper, letting go of the boy in order to disappear from sight herself. Although she expect him to move a bit slow seeing as this was his first shift, Derika didn't expect him to get shot with an arrow. Her movements paused, labored breaths passing her lips as she watched the scene before her.

"Take him in," One of the Argents commanded as they appeared out of the mist. She had to do something. Stealthily, the young Hale quietly approached from behind and took out two from behind, then blurring past in order to snag the arrow off of Scott, having to practically drag him with her until he got the hang of it. They ran further into the woods, Scott taking the lead until his legs gave out, him collapsing at one of the trees. Derika let the young wolf catch his breath, looking around to ensure the hunters were out of sight.

"Who were they?!" Scott asked through a strained voice, glancing up at the diminutive female for answers.

She looked back to him, deciding to go with the truth. "Hunters," she answers, "The kind that's been hunting us for centuries."

"Us?!" Scott raised his voice, which only strained forward as the young beta sprung to his feet, an arm still wrapped around his stomach. "You mean you, you did this to me!"

Annoyance brewed within clairvoyant emerald as the brunette tilted her head to the side, lips curling inwards as she faced the boy with an expression of steel. "Is it really that bad, Scott? That you can see better, hear more clearly, move faster than any human could ever hope? You've been given something that most people would kill for," Her gaze never wavered from his, and her words seemed to hold his attention, "The bite is a gift."

"I don't want it," Scott replied after some hesitation, which Derika shortly replied to, "You will. And you're gonna' need me if you want to learn how to control it," the petite brunette leaned forward, forcing Scott back the shoulder, "So you and me, Scott? We're brothers now."

With that, the diminutive female eased off and promptly left.


	3. 1x02

**_A.N:_** _All I know, is_   _somewhere within this chapter, **Last Girl On Earth by Lana Del Rey**  speaks to me._

* * *

 

Even though he could have just told Scott about Jackson in the morning, Stiles decided, why the wait? Besides, he couldn't wait to tell Scott and he didn't think his best friend would appreciate a midnight call due to his over-exuberance. Yes, he addmitted that. So he sent on Skype and called. Two busy calls later and he finally got through, giving the teenager enough time to fiddle around with a spare watergun lying around. He pointed it to the screen, earning an amused look from his friend.

"What'd you find out?" Scott asked, sounding even a bit anxious.

"Jackson's got a separated shoulder," he answered, giving the curly-haired teen a pointed look.

"Because of me?"

"Because he's a tool," Stiles scoffed, raising his eyebrows. What was there even noteworthy about Jackson anyway? Besides his car, actually good at sports, Lydia... Okay, his mind was just determined to take him on the biggest reality check ever now and Stiles wasn't going down without a fight.

Scott's voice interrupted his train of thought. "Well, is he gonna' play?"

Stiles shrugged, "They don't know yet," he answered honestly, casually extending a hand, "They're kinda' just counting on you for Saturday."

His friend let loose a heavy sigh at this, clearly guilt-ridden. Scott hung his head. His first thought would be to reassure his friend, but his eye caught a flicker of movement in the background. He leaned in, trying to get a better look.

"What?" Scott asked, in a mixture of confusion and annoyance. Stiles resorted to typing, pulling up his keyboard and typing vigorously.

**_'It looks like'_ **

"It looks like what?" He heard Scott ask, becoming frustrated. Stiles let off a small sigh, finishing off the last bit of the sentence and promptly pressing 'ENTER'.

**_'someone's behind you'_ **

He zoomed up, and  _of course_. The mystery person had to be female. The mystery person had to be  _hot_. The mystery person had to be a very angry Derika Hale.

* * *

 

To say Derika was pissed would be an understatement. Try,  _livid, furious._  Which was why she was here, in the obtrusively messy bedroom of the new teenage werewolf on the block, practically steaming with rage. One would think that after being attacked by  _hunters_ , the long talk she had with him that very night that Scott would have took at least one of those things to heart. But that clearly wasn't the case, seeing as he was about to jeopardize his teammates, other people, and the exposure of their secret all for the spotlight in one measly lacrosse game. No, things like this, she was allowed to get angry about.

The young Hale growled, and took the chance once Scott was on full guard as Stiles had earlier warned him, and with strength that deceived her petite build, hoisting the lanky teenager out of his chair and promptly slammed his frame harshly against the wall, one slender hand knotting against the side of his sweater and pushing against his neck as she leaned forward, mouth twisting into a snarl as the newly-bit pup quailed under her grip.

"I saw you on the field today," she growled lowly, her grip firm and tightening a notch as Scott continued to catch his breath, heart hammering against his chest in unadulterated fear.

"W-What're you talking about?" the young beta stuttered, not even daring to look up at the rage-filled female.

"You shifted in front of them!" Her voice octave rose louder, a lot harsher than before, "If they find out what you are, they find out about me, about all of us, and then it's not just the hunters after us, it's everyone.

Scott's harsh breathing continued as her nostrils flared, pushing him harder into the wall. "They didn't see anything, I swear!"

The hand fisting into his sweater curled inwards, the cotton material stretching painfully against the boy's neck. "And they won't!" the brunette flared, "Because if you even try to play in that game on Saturday? I'm gonna' kill you myself." The last part was said so eerily calm that, Scott whimpered ever so slightly. It wasn't a threat. It was a promise.

And then Derika shoved off of the young beta, promptly disappearing out of his window within the mere blink of an eye.

Meanwhile, a shaken Stiles had long ended the video chat with Scott, but was finding it exceedingly difficult to get the prominent image that was the prominent shape of Derika Hale's ass as she threatened his best friend's life. Boy, he was starting to think it was him with all the issues to sort through.

* * *

 

The dismal disposition of the blackened walls that closed around her seemed to echo her very mood, which was emptiness. Long gone was the rage that blinded her into threatening the young beta's life earlier, but that didn't mean she wasn't keeping a close eye on him. Scott McCall most definitely wasn't playing in that game and that was final. Although, she expected him to come to her first. The young pup still saw her as a threat, something Derika wasn't sure whether it was a good thing or a bad thing.

In the distance, she could hear the harsh pumping of the young beta's blood. She could  _feel_  the rage he exuded, all directed at her. But the young Hale could care less for whatever reason he was pissed at her. She had more important things to tend to, like who was the alpha that  _murdered_  her sister, a crime that she would bet anything Scott and his hyperactive friend Stiles were under suspicion she committed. Emerald irises glanced warily out the window, seeing the boy fast approaching on his bike. He then dropped from the bike altogether, throwing off his helmet as he shouted her name at the top of his lungs.

"Derika!" Off with the backpack and Scott's eyes was flashing with unmistakable fury, his arms tensed, hands balled into fists as he waited for the diminutive female to appear. He  _knew_  she was here.

In the split second Scott took his eyes off the house, Derika appeared on the porch, looking on impassively. Her attire for today lacked the patented leather jacket, clad in form-fitting jeans and a soft grey polo shirt and showed off enough of her bosom to send Stiles to la la land.

But this was Scott. An angered Scott, one might add.

"Stay away from her!" he shouted as Derika began making her way over, "She doesn't know anything!"

"Yeah?" the she-wolf answered, a hint of annoyance in her tone as she jumped down from the porch, landing gracefully on both feet, "What if she does? You think your little buddy Stiles can just google werewolves and now you've got all the answers, is that it?" Scott quailed under the intensity of the woman's gaze, but in his eyes still held a spark of defiance, which only frustrated her. "You don't get it, Scott, that I'm looking out for you. Think about what can happen," her head raised, soft wavy tresses cascading down her shoulders as the brunette continued stepping closer, "You're out on the field, the aggression takes over, and you  _shift_. In front of everyone."

Scott was still looking at her with that expression, like a puppy under the influence of fear, but it's instinct was still to bark out. Her eye caught the lacrosse stick lying innocently onto the grass. Derika bent over and picked it up, fiddling around with the intricately netted head.

"Your mom, your friends," she said, gaze lifting back to Scott's. "And when they see you," Derika pointed at him using the lacrosse stick, which Scott in turn tried to grab. She pulled it back, claws extending as the brunette bent at the hip, slicing through the netting of the lacrosse stick as a demonstration. "Everything falls apart."

She tossed the narrow stick his way, which the young beta caught easily. And then, as usual, she was gone again, back into the confines of her ruined childhood home whilst Scott was left out in the open, still wondering how the hell the mysterious she-wolf kept pulling that disappearing act each time.

* * *

 

Derika knew something was up the moment she had gotten back that she couldn't put her finger on it until police cars began pulling up. And nobody knew she was here with the exception of possibly the alpha werewolf, Scott and his idiot friend Stiles. And she had a feeling that the lesser of the two evils were behind it, seeing as she could  _smell_  them close by. The young Hale didn't put up much of a fight, but went willingly even though her pride suffered countless blows as Sheriff Stilinksi cuffed her, looking at her in a way that made her defiantly narrow her gaze at him. Disappointment.

The usually-stoic expression barely masked her annoyance as emerald irises flickered in the direction of the wolf pup himself, casting a stony glare his way as the elderly policeman escorted her into the back of the vehicle, slamming the door shut afterwards. Right about now, killing Scott McCall earlier yesterday when she had the choice didn't seem like a bad idea all of a sudden.

* * *

 

Stiles had more or less spent all night poring over every piece of lore and mythology he could get his hands on after the discovery courtesy of him and Scott. But there was barely anything about a human being able to shift into a full-blown wolf. There were a few disturbing ones about wolves being turned into humans, but that was it.

He had a lot on his mind. Worry for Scott, and... what would happen to Derika. Stiles tried, he really tried to convince himself that she could be innocent... but she wasn't the girl on the lacrosse team he used to crush on as a kid anymore. That Derika had a smile that could stun any boy into oblivion, the one he watched and admired from afar. The one he knew, however, was reserved and exuded a hostility that honestly scared him. She was beautiful, more beautiful than anyone he had ever seen (surprisingly enough, that included Lydia Martin) but dangerous enough to take a few steps back once her sharp gaze turned to him. And that's what made him doubt. Derika was  _dangerous_ , and gave off the impression that her heart was blackened to the core.

As soon as his father and one of the deputies went over to investigate the other half of the body, Stiles nonchalantly walked out from behind the tree he was hiding behind, fast approaching the police car. There was Scott, signalling with his arms for him to stop, but Stiles paid him no heed, entering by the front seat just in case Derika decided to rip his throat out for playing a part in her arrest. Yes, Stiles wasn't even going to deny that the mysterious she-wolf scared the living hell out of him.

His hand braced against the protective fencing as he closed the door, lowering his voice to a hushed whisper. "Okay, just so you know, I'm not afraid of you."

Stiles later regretted this statement said in confidence as Derika lifted her head, a prominent scowl marring her features. But the part that made him internally gulp was the vicious glare that the she-wolf pinned him with. His eyes widened, hesitating before speaking. "Okay, maybe I am. I just wanna' know something," he leaned in closer, "The girl you killed? She was a werewolf. She was a different kind, wasn't she?"

Derika simply continued to glower at the boy, but he could have sworn there was a flicker of  _something_  in her eyes other than the usual rage and hostility the female possessed. Nevertheless, he continued, "I mean, she could turn herself into an actual wolf and I know Scott can't do that. Is that why you killed her?" Stiles asked, his eyes casting downwards.

"...Why are you so worried about me when it's your friend who's the problem?" Derika finally spoke, jerking her head in the direction of Scott. She then turned back to Stiles, gaze impassive. "When he shifts on the field, what d'you think they're gonna' do, huh? Just keep cheering him on?"

Stiles was beginning to feel uncomfortable all of a sudden at the female's words, as though his own fears were being spoken aloud. Nevertheless, Derika continued, "I can't stop him, but you can," the young Hale looked pointedly at Stiles before leaning in, a bit too close for comfort. "And trust me, you want to."

Before Stiles could get another word in, he found himself being dragged out by none other than his father. "Ow, ow ow," the teenaged boy complained, until the Sheriff finally let go of his son's arm, leveling with him. "What the hell d'you think you're doing?"

"I'm just trying to help," Stiles replied, a bit exasperated as he spread his arms out.

His father didn't seem so convinced. "Uh huh, then help me understand how exactly you came across this."

"We... were looking for Scott's inhaler," he half lied, half told the truth, "Which he dropped the other night."

"The other night when you were looking for the first half of the body," The Sheriff rose a brow, waiting for his son to clarify.

"Yes," Stiles nodded, quite confident that he seemed truthful enough to be let off the hook.

However, it would take more than just that before Sheriff Stilinski to concede. He could smell a lie when he saw one. "The other night when you said Scott was at home."

"Yes!" Stiles then realized he was getting caught into this web of lies himself. "Wait, no!" He tried to rectify, even though it was already too late.

"So you lied to me?"

"That depends on how you define lying," Stiles replied, a bit too smug of himself because of the cheeky reply.

"I define it as not telling the truth, how do you define it?" The elder man asked, a flicker of annoyance within his gaze.

"Uh... reclining your body in a horizontal position?" Stiles tried.

The Sheriff huffed off a sigh. "Son, I don't know how you got yourself in the middle of this mess, but I'm sure you know that girl is Derika Hale." From the look he was receiving from his father, Stiles found it appropriate to flush deeply at the neck, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ' _I was ten'._

"Anyway," he continued, choosing to ignore the little wisp of nostalgia, "Derika lost most of her family, Stiles. And I don't know what happened after she left Beacon Hills, why she's like this now, but I don't believe that makes her capable of murder."

Stiles frowned, tilting his head as he looked at his father. "Well, you're the expert here, dad. What do you think then?"

"Well, I think she's sc- " The sheriff caught himself in mid-sentence, narrowing his eyes. "I think you should get the hell out."

Stiles didn't need telling twice.

* * *

 

After a long, uneventful ride in the back of the car which included lot's of mumbling and murmurs between Sheriff Stilinksi and the other elderly deputy and copious bouts of Derika stewing quietly in a whir of her own anger and frustration, and  _pain_. She barely admitted it to herself, but Stiles's words had struck a nerve. That moment, all she wanted to do was ask him, why the hell she would kill her own sister? And maybe the accusatory look the Sheriff's son had tried so hard to keep at bay would finally leave, and she would feel at least an inkling of peace. But instead she just sat there and glared at the boy, because the less they knew, the more of a chance Derika had to get to the bottom of this herself.

But she wasn't exactly sure what would happen once the Argents caught wind of her return to Beacon Hills. Troubling thoughts swirled within the dark confines of her mind as Sheriff Stilinksi gruffly escorted her into the police station, along with the help of a younger Deputy whose eyes had to be averted from her figure. But the young Hale barely noticed, her mouth turning into a small frown as she was carried into a very familiar room, and was promptly cuffed to a chair. A dark brow arched gracefully as the diminutive female crossed one leg over the other, but didn't say a word.

The Sheriff's gaze lingered upon the young Hale for a moment, but not in the lewd manner of his Deputies. No, his was more concerned, one could go as far to call it parental instinct. Really, what had happened to Derika Hale in the few years she had been away? She wasn't the buoyant young girl he would see tagging around with her older sister, being killer at the softball games and lacrosse which his young son would march his parents in order to see. He loved the sport, but never could get the hang of it. But in a true Stiles-esque manner, he never gave up. But there was a method to his son's madness, and seeing his muse sitting there without a flicker nor hint of emotion betraying her stoic countenance was cause enough for his heart to ache.

The voice to jar him out of his thoughts was not the young woman's as she defiantly stared back, but one of the Deputys'. He sighed, relinquishing his gaze in order to walk over to where the young Deputy was stationed, strained features peering over to the computer screen. "What've you got for me?" he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

The young man, James he believed was his name, turned and clicked onto Derika's photo, which outlined her profile and flashed various DUIs amongst other things. "Looks like our girl has a track record... nothing that extreme though, just some underage drinking, DUIs and... I think that last time is fraud. She used to live in Beacon Hills too, look."

"Oh, I know," Sheriff Stilinski sighed, and could swear he felt her eyes burn at him. "Her family were the arson victims about five years ago. She was one of the three survivors."

"Who were the other two?"

"Laura Hale and Peter Hale," he answered automatically. He had done that report, still stricken. The Hales may have lived a somewhat secluded life, but overally they were nice people. Why someone would want to do such a thing, he still wondered to this day. "Peter Hale suffered from brain damage and is institutionalized. Laura... Laura left with Derika after the fire."

James looked as though in contemplation for a moment before hesitantly typing in the name 'Laura Hale'. Unlike her sister, Laura didn't have any run-ins with the law. The only thing tying her name to their records was the night of the fire. The Sheriff squinted, attempting to get a better look of the picture. Sharply defined features just like that of her sister the same dark-brown hair. But there was something else acutely familiar about her...

"Kind of looks like the girl," the young Deputy wondered out loud, answering all the questions running through the Sheriff's head. He looked up to see Derika with a hardened expression, gaze averted to the floor. The young woman looked less hostile this way, making him wonder exactly how much of a good hearing she had.

"Oh look, I think they got the forensics tests back in," James said as he looked up, rising from his seat and walking out of the door. A heavy sigh pulled from Sheriff Stilinski's mouth as he shut the door behind him. There was a flicker of hesitation as he sat in the seat next to Derika, who was diligent in upholding her stony silence. His gaze dropped to the floor, whereas her's lifted she huffed off a small sigh.

"Was... the girl Laura?" He chose his words carefully upon initialing conversation, hands clasped together as his thumbs twiddled together. The last thing he wanted was to upset her.

Viridescent hues finally turned to meet his gaze. "Yes," Derika finally spoke, her tone sharp and reserved.

First instincts were to ask, why not come to the police if her sister was mauled or murdered? But this wasn't an ordinary case. This was a girl whose family was burned to death, and for some reason carried a burden of guilt. Under the tough exterior, Derika Hale was crumbling with guilt. In a way, she reminded him of Stiles, with his bravado.

"You're scared," the Sheriff replied in a statement more than a question, forehead creasing together as he studied the girl's expression carefully. "But why? Do you know who killed Laura?"

The young Hale's gaze narrowed, mouth open to reply when James chooses this moment to interrupt, hesitantly cracking open the door. "Sheriff, can I see you for a moment? I think you'll want to sit down for this one."

* * *

 

Euphoria streamed on for miles, but Stiles didn't necessarily consider himself part of the cheers crowding the lacrosse field as Scott just basically saved their asses out there. The only thing was, the man of the moment had disappeared, Allison Argent on his heels. Relief bloomed due to the fact that his best friend had managed to play with his feathers barely ruffled, but Stiles could have sworn he saw the sliver of a shift. The whoops and hoots of victory around him, not even the sound of Lydia berating Jackson seemed to pierce the veil of his train of thought.

Eyes on him.

Stiles turned on his heel to be met with the baleful glare of  _Derika Fucking Hale_. His heart almost stopped. And it definitely wasn't the way she rocked that leather jacket tight around her figure, or the dark-washed jeans so fitted they seemed painted on. Okay, maybe a little. But more due to the fact that Derika was supposed to be in  _jail_. Also, that killer glare of her's caused several qualms within the boy.

Sighing, Stiles began discarding his gloves, still clad in his lacrosse shirt as he began walking towards the young Hale, who seemed so isolated from the benign crowd as she continued to lean against one of the nearby trees, leg callously bent at the knee with her boot flat against the bark of the tree. Her glower never wavered, even as she leaned off and decided to meet him halfway, arms loosely crossed over her chest.

"I- You - What're you doing here?!"

For once, Stiles was too stunned to come up with a witty remark. Also scared to death, because the glare was well intact.

The brunette raised a brow, her mouth twisting into the scowl he had become so accustomed to seeing by now. "What do you  _think_  I'm doing here? I was released." Okay, her vagueness wasn't helping at  _all_.

When all Stiles continued to do was gape, Derika rolled her eyes and continued speaking, "I didn't kill anyone, Stiles. You know it. Scott knows it. But apparently lacrosse is more important to your friend than anything else. He doesn't realize he has responsibilities now."

"And what's that, chasing Bambi in the woods with you?" Stiles asked sarcastically, mirroring her by crossing his arms across her chest, "You can't pin this on only Scott, you're the one who bit him."

"I didn't!" Derika flared, her eyes flashing an electric blue as her arms came apart, balling into fists at her sides. "I don't even want to be here, Stiles! The only reason I'm even  _here_  is because my sister went missi -" Realizing she had said enough, the young Hale refused to finish her sentence, making a point in avoiding the teenager's awestruck gaze as realization finally hit home.

"T- That girl we found in the woods, she was your  _sister_?"

Derika also made a point of ignoring that as her gaze narrowed, a slender hand shooting out to curl against the thin fabric of his lacrosse shirt. "The Argents know I'm here now thanks to you and your imbecilic friend. And sooner or later, they're going to find out about him too and I don't think they're going to be happy that a werewolf's dating their daughter."

Her grip on him finally loosened, but the woman still crowded his personal space, looking up at him pointedly. And choosing to politely ignore the fact that he was now reeking of arousal and well, probably fear. And like the times before, Stiles barely had the chance to blink before she was gone, leaving him with a particularly cold feeling within. Running a hand across his features, Stiles heaved a long sigh before trudging off the field to find Scott. He was going to want to hear this.

* * *

 

The crowds around the bleachers took a while to dissipate, but Derika still hung around. She saw Scott and Stiles leave together rather quickly. Allison and her father, which the young Hale kept a close eye on. So far, he hadn't spotted her, even though she had been lingering since midway of the game, mentally cursing Scott which went great with all the ways she envisioned killing the particularly thick boy. Which made her wonder, did this Alpha even have the sliver of experience? Or common sense.

Derika shook her head, looking up just in time to see Jackson Whittemore approach the center of the field, picking up a discarded glove. Scott's glove, the one in which he shifted. Nevermind. Derika stepped closer, making her presence known. The she-wolf knew what she looked like to people. Wild, dangerous, even exotic. Your mother's worst nightmare. And for a moment, they just stared at each other, her's more threatening. It read: Back the fuck off.


	4. 1x03

The police car pulled up in front of the Hale House without permeable. From inside the burnt out husk of her family home, Derika could hear the thudding heart of the officer loud and clear. This only made her disgruntled. A claw or two made it's appearance; but a sharp intake of breath later and they had disappeared under her skin again. The young Hale made a sharp turn, the precarious wood under her boots creaking as she peered out of the shattered glass. Bits and pieces of the conversation between the nervous cop and his mostly annoyed supervisor was within her ear's reach.

As the man relented to approach, Derika shut her eyes, reaching for the mind of the hound's in the backseat of the car. It was a mere primal instict; one that had been instilled within her by her brother all those years ago. The thought of the regal Talia Hale, her mother caused a harsh tugged at her heart, one that made her feel that the dull ache in her chest would never cease. Nevertheless, the young hale reached out tentatively with her mind, her eyes finally opening in a show of electric blue. After some gentle prodding, the dog began barking rigorously, causing the officer to turn.

"Don't do that," he reprimanded, and then turned back to the porch, continuing his hesitant approach to the foreboding house.

Lous whining and a fresh series of bars erupted from the hound again due to Derika's gentle guidance, high upon the second story of the Hale House. By now, the officer simply looked terrified, with a mild amount of confusion in there as well. It was as though he was torn between rationality and duty, Derika thought to herself with amusement, as she watched him look helplessly between the whining dog trying to escape through the window and her home.

Rationality seemed to win over.

"Okay. Okay, I'm coming," he breathed through ragged breaths, tearing his gaze away from the Hale House, and tail tucked between his legs (oh, the  _irony_ ), practically mauled himself into the driver's seat and promptly sped off the dirt road.

Derika assumed she would be getting a lot more of those, especially since a certain one Scott McCall and his partner in crime Stiles Stilinski had thrown her under the bus under completely false accusations. But seeing now as she was the only thing tied between the murder of her sister Laura and the brutal attempt at some guy at the high school which fit the profile of an  _animal_  attack, she might as well get used to it whilst she still could.

She  _thought_  she heard him somewhere there. The brunette had to force down a scowl as the boy himself stepped out in the open once he knew the coast was clear, fidgeting around with his feet and hands as his gaze lifted upwards, as though to seek her out.

"I know you can hear me," Scott said after much hesitation, "And I need your help."

From the reluctance that came off the young boy in waves, Derika could smell  _Stiles_  all over it. But... even though he had tried her for the murder of her own sister (Derika was pointedly ignoring the part of her mind, the rational part that kept on whispering,  _'he didn't know,'_ ) somewhere along the lines Scott McCall's teenage werewolf predicament had become her responsibility. And every now and then, she was tempted to full-on challenge the alpha in the area just for that. But more or less murdering her sister for  _power_.

Nevertheless, the door of the Hale House was reluctantly wrenched open for the young Hale to walk out, dressed head to toe in her signature colors of black, black and more black, hands tucked into the leather jacket she always wore so flawlessly. Before she could even begin sizing him up, Scott opened his mouth to speak, albeit nervously.

"Okay, I know I was part of you getting arrested and we basically announced you being here to the hunters..."

Derika's expression never shifted from the hard glare she had pinned to him, which made the young beta internally gulp and looked down. "Also, don't know what happened to your sister..." he added, in an apologetic tone, "But - But I think I did something last night. I had a dream about..." Scott hesitated, barely looking at the rather intimidating female, "..someone, and someone else got hurt, and it turns out that part of the dream might have actually happened."

"You think you attacked the driver?" Derika asked impassively, without missing a beat.

Scott looked up, as though he was startled she was already aware of it. "Did you see what I did last night?" he asked, a small tremor of desperation in his tone. As though needing confirmation.

"No."

"Can you at least tell me the truth?" Scott asked, worrying his lower lip between his teeth, nervous but the words managed to tumble out of his mouth anyways, "Am I gonna hurt someone?"

Yes," the brunette replies, her mouth twisting to the side.

"Am I gonna kill someone?"

"Yes."

" _Am_  I gonna kill someone?"

"Probably."

There is a resignation in his eyes as he looks into the emerald depths of her's, and Scott knows Derika isn't just screwing with him for kicks. She's being  _truthful_. The she-wolf picks up on the way his chest tightens, causing the boy to draw a deep breath and lean against one of wooden beams, trying to catch his breath from the sudden wave of anxiety.

Derika heaves off a soft sigh, turning to Scott. "Look, I can show you how to remember. I can show you how to control the shift, even on a full moon," she pauses, but Scott's still trying to get a hold of himself. "But it's not gonna' come for free."

"What do you want?"

She nods. "You'll find out. But for now I'm gonna give you what you want. Go back to the bus. Go inside. See it. Feel it. Let your senses, your sight, smell, touch, let them remember for you."

Scott's looking at her from the corner of his eyes, as though waiting for more. "So... that's it, just go back?"

"Do you wanna know what happened?"

He's now fully looking to her with those puppy dog eyes of his, that sort of makes her want to knock his teeth down his throat. "I just wanna know if I hurt him," he says simply.

"No you don't," Derika replies, seeing right through his bravado, a scoff at the brim of her lips. It wouldn't be the first time she saw it. "You wanna know if you'll hurt her."

* * *

Angry. Offended. Raging. A little but wary. Recluse.

A whirlwind of emotions was causing her to spin off axis, a nasty headache clouding her vision to a virulent red as she shrank back against the shadows that skirted around the corner of the Hale House, or what was left of it anyways. And really, the last thing Derika needed was to be plummeted by more actions after Chris Argent and his stupid car metaphors, who read into  _'Stay the fuck away from my family,you mongrel'_. And to add salt to the wound, one of his lackeys had shattered one of the windows on her  _newly bought_  Camaro. But Scott McCall, she has learnt over the past weeks or so they had known each other was not only thick enough to use Stiles as a dispatched brain, but had a rather upsetting streak of stubbornness.

The door nearly shook off it's hinges as the young teenager entered without so much as a word, looking around wildly.

"Derika!" he shouted, "I know you're here! I know what you did!"

"I... didn't do anything," he manages through gritted teeth, remaining unseen from the young beta. Her voice reverberated around the recluse setting of the Hale House with an eerie component to it, almost like that of a malevolent spectre.

The young Hale could hear him take hesitant steps up the staircase, but was still more or less fueled by rage as his breaths grew more ragged as he spoke, "You killed him!"

"He  _died_."

Scott now started up the rickety staircase, wary of where he stepped. "Like your sister died?"

It was said softly, but Derika could detect a hint of accusation in the words spoken. Viridescent hues narrowed at nothing in particular, allowing the force of the rage building within to wash away like the work of a sieve.

"My  _sister_  was missing. I came here looking for her. You would know that if you listened to your buddy Stiles," Derika growls.

"Well, you found her!"

And there was that accusatory tone again. She snapped.

"I found her in  _pieces_! Being used as bait to catch me," she says bitterly. And the guilt, it closed around her chest tightly.

The young beta's gaze never wavered, "I think you killed them both."

This infuriated the she-wolf to a breaking point. Scott McCall was the first person to ever make her tempted enough to rip her own head off. Or better yet,  _his_.

"I'm gonna tell everyone. Starting with the Sheriff," Scott threatened, having guided himself up the stairs and was now looking around for the mysterious she-wolf, shrouded by the darkness and blackened grime of her childhood home. Derika growled low, springing out from her spot and promptly grabbing the young beta by the collar, sending him tumbling down the staircase none-too-gently.

He fell flat on his stomach, tangled around in the rugs. When Scott looked up, sharp teeth had elongated past his lips, face shifted into something more primal.  _Werewolf_. Eyes glowing a prominent molten gold, the sound of a loud growl falling past his lips.

The brunette looked menacing as her gaze drifts downwards, and in an agile motion, leaps into the air without incident, landing softly on her feet before the teenaged boy, now on his feet. Before she could so much as react, Scott had grabbed her by the collar and promptly tossed her into one of the crumbling walls, her petite form hitting the floor without so much as a scratch, dust and debris scattering and clouding  _everywhere_. Vision blurred, Derika sprang to her feet and dusted herself off, fixing the collar of her jacket.

"Huh.." she mutters, making a move to shrug off the leathered material off her shoulders, "That was cute." The emerald hue of her eyes burnt out into an electric blue, and with the soft circular turn of her head, her face began shifting, prominent features sharpening into harder lines as a soft layer of hair extended from the side of her face, teeth elongating to bare in a ferocious roar, the blue of her eyes brightening.

Scott continued coming at her,  _poor boy_ , she thought while backing up, sizing up the other wolf. They skirted around each other for a few more moments before Scott charged blindly, which was a wrong move on his part. Quick as ever, Derika side steps him and proceeds to slam the young wolf into the wall a few times, before throwing him into another table in a show of undeniably superhuman strength. She  _jumped_ , but missed by a millisecond. Turning to be met by a lackluster blow, the young Hale catches his other fist in her hand and  _wrings_ , her own fist flying forward to deliver a few precise ones of her own. She pushes him into the floor again, watching with intent as he crawls his way back to his feet. Derika lets out another roar, and performs another agile leap, her feet kicking right into his stomach, forcing the boy to stumble back onto his hands and knees from the unexpected move.

Attempting another onslaught of agility against the new wolf, clearly inexperienced, Derika misses as Scott picks up his saving grace, a  _paddle_ , and takes a swing at her, the petite brunette tumbling back gracelessly into the floor. However, the next time she is ready and moves out of the way, her movements setting the boy off balance and is able to turn the tables. A slender hand wraps around his throat, as if looks could be deceiving, and Derika lifts him off the floor, only to slam his battered body back against the hard flooring, again and  _again_. She lets go of him, only to deliver a strong kick, sending the boy plummeting past an old drawer.

However, he leaps up again, and tries to have a go at her again, which is stopped by her hard fist flying against his throat. Derika continues growling, which soon subsided with the soft  _cracking_  sounds as she proceeds to shift back as normal, Scott scampering somewhere at her feet. A thin layer of sweat causes the front of her Henley to stick to her chest, and Scott is polite enough to look away.

"I didn't kill him!" She startles him by speaking once under a proper breathing regulation, "Neither of us did. It's not your fault and it's not mine."

Scott, however, had different views on the matter at hand.

"This?!" he shouts, charging back forcibly into her line of sight. But Derika barely flinches. "This is all your fault! You ruined my life!"

"No, I  _didn't_ ," Derika bites out, surprisingly calm for someone who just got into a fistfight with him."

"You're the one who bit me!"

"No, I'm not." Derika sounds frustrated, as though she had been explaining something to a particularly hard headed kid. Which, in this situation, wasn't all that different.

"What?!" Now Scott just seemed confused.

"I'm not the one who bit you,"  _you moron_ , she wanted to add.

And then Scott looks down, touching the slashes against his chest. He seemed to space out, which only meant one thing: he was  _remembering_. A few seconds later and the boy was backing himself into one of the old sofas, as Derika waits for him to come to the same conclusion she did days ago.

"There's another.."

Derika nods, "It's called an Alpha. It's the most dangerous of our kind," she turns to him, heaving off a small breath, "You and I, we're betas. This thing - is more powerful, more animal than either of us. My sister came here looking for him, now I'm trying to find him. But I don't think I can do it without you.

"...Why me?"

"Because he's the one who bit you. You're part of  _his_  pack."

Scott looks up to her, and she would be lying if she said there wasn't just a bit of fear in his gaze. And hopelessness.

She sighs. "It's you, Scott. You're the one he wants."

* * *

"She what?" Stiles asks, trying to sound surprised but is more amused than anything.

Scott simply looks annoyed at the fact that his best friend was taking joy in his extremely battered state. And that was through a couple minutes of healing.

"What do you want to hear, Derika beat me up?" he asks with irritation, and Stiles chortles.  _Just wait until she starts on you_ , he thinks to himself bitterly, maintaining a firm glare to his best friend.

"Well, that's what happened, isn't it?" His best friend raises a brow, rising from his seat on the chair.

"Yeah but... that isn't really the important part," Scott admits, taking a seat at the edge of Stiles's bed, proceeding to bury his head into his hands. He doesn't really know how Stiles will react, and there's a small part of him that's nervous for his reaction.

Stiles's forehead creased, elbows on his knees as he leans in with a frown. "Whoa, Scott, what 'important part'? What the hell did Derika tell you?" He asks, slightly panicked. Scott knows this as soon as his heart rate picks up.

He sighs. "Derika wasn't the one who bit me. She didn't kill her sister either, you were right. There's - there's another... she called it an  _alpha_. And... she says it wants me."

Scott's gaze now focuses on Stiles, anxious for his reaction.

"Dude, I  _told_  you she didn't."

And Scott was able to let off the breath he had been holding in. Although, he should have known that Stiles's focal point of this conversation would be Derika. His best friend may hold a torch for Lydia, but the presence of Derika Hale was causing quite a response... and Scott wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that yet.

"And I just said you were right," he rolls his eyes, pausing, "I... I remembered seeing the Alpha in the bus, Stiles. It was like he was... calling to me."

Stiles leans in. "What do you think it means then?"

"I don't know."


	5. 1x04

Derika could feel her vision shifting in and out, in addition to her struggling consciousness. It only worsened as she stepped outside, an onslaught of sunlight hitting her in the face with full force. She barely felt the wetness of Jackson's blood against her fingertips from their earlier altercation, but the metallic twinge hit her nostrils with a force. Pain coursed through the entirety of her body, twisting and clawing in a bout of sheer irony with every step she took out of the school. And the most strange thing was, nobody paid her any heed amongst the crush of students, eager and chattering around her, each of their voices piercing sensitive eardrums.

The young Hale visibly winces, bringing a slender hand to the side of her face. Upon realizing this was the hand where  _some fucking hunter_  had shot her with a wolfsbane-laced bullet with, Derika quickly retracts and hopes that nobody saw the steady stream of blood that was flowing down her jacket. But it was too much. The pain, the sun, all of the sounds and scents that plundered her senses... she faltered. And collapsed.

Right in front of Stiles' Jeep.

* * *

"You gotta' be kidding me, this girl is everywhere..." Stiles sighs as  _Derika Hale_  stumbled and practically fainted right in front of him. His hands stilled against the worn wheels, eyes widening because fuck, he isn't sure he's ever seen Derika in any other way that wasn't flawless or ...frightening, a newer development. Pale as a vampire and fainting in front of his car, well, that definitely changes things.

He doesn't know exactly how long he's been thinking, but apparently it's too long as someone (probably Jackson) honks their horn loudly behind him, as an indication that he should move the fuck on. Stiles is about to turn and yell something back like any good driver when Scott calls out to him, already off his bike and trying to help Derika up.

Stiles quickly lugs himself out of the Jeep and rushes forward just in time to hear Scott ask in a hushed voice, "What the hell? What're you doing here?!" even though Derika was hanging onto his arm like a lifeline.

"I was shot..." She wheezed, holding out her good hand to her throat with a groan. Stiles' gaze focuses mainly on the brunette's face... and she wasn't looking so good right now. Her usual tanned complexion was drawn to sickly plain, and every now and then her body would twinge to suggest pain.

"She doesn't look so good, dude..."

But Scott wasn't really listening, either. "Why aren't you healing?!" His best friend asked, alarmed as he tried maintaining a better grip on the female wolf. She looked like she was about to keel over.

But that didn't mean Derika had lost any of her delightful charm. Sarcasm most definitely intended. "I can't!" she snarls back, the consequence being nearly losing her breath gain, "I-It was different kind of bullet."

Then Stiles remembered something he'd read. "What- a silver bullet?"

Derika winced again, and by the way her face twisted he had the distinct feeling that he was wrong. "No, you idiot," she groaned, and those emerald eyes blinked up at him. Yeah, she looked like literal hell but for a moment, his heart nearly stopped. Only Scott's voice was enough to draw him back.

"Wait - That's what she meant when she said you have 48 hours!"

Derika blinked, startled as he proceeded to turn her attention back to Scott. "What? W-Who said 48 hours?"

And there was the vulnerability in her voice that made him believe that his dad was right about her. She  _was_  scared.

Scott didn't bring a name to the table either. Needless to say, the situation was a bit frustrating to all three parties present. "T-the one who shot you," Scott replied, a little bewildered.

The young Hale flinched, automatically gripping tighter against his best friend's arm as her head jerked backwards, emerald quickly flashing to their true sapphire for a moment. Stiles could have sworn the sound Derika just made was a  _whimper_.

"What are you  _doing_? Stop that!" Scott whispered urgently in her ear, frantically looking around to ensure no one had saw. Luck was on their side, because the Jeep was blocking the rest of motorists and most people had cleared on the scene.

"I'm trying to tell you I  _can't_ ," Derika hissed back, a bit frantic and frustrated herself as she looked around, right before lowering her flashing gaze.

It was obvious that everyone was getting annoyed, because the honking of horns was becoming more and more persistent. Jackson and Allison had even gotten out of their cars and looked like they here about to approach. Stiles turned to where Deriks and Scott were, having a little whisper argument. He rolled his eyes.

"Adorable, but can you like, get her into my car before anyone sees her?" Stiles grumbled to Scott, who quickly nodded and went to help Derika into the Jeep, who was protesting like she had a choice into the matter. Stiles was already in and drumming his fingers against the wheel as Scott eased her into the seat, amidst her various grumbling and snarling. What a princess.

"I need you to find out what kind of bullet they used.." Derika sighed as soon as she was shut in, trying to lean over to Scott.

"How the hell am I supposed to find that?" he asks with exasperation.

"She's with an Argent, she's with them."

"And why would I help you?" Scott was getting a bit annoyed now.

Derika paused, looking down before her gaze raises meaningfully towards the other boy. Her eyes had long stopped flashing blue, so she seemed more sincere when saying, "Because you need me."

Scott glanced back to where Allison was. Stiles could only imagine what he was thinking. "Fine," he relented, before addressing Stiles, "Hey, get her out of here."

"Oh it," he sighed, gearing up and shooting straight in the other direction, jostling Derika. She shifted in her seat and leaned forward, growling under her breath. This was going to be a long ride.

* * *

...And it was.

He mostly drove in silence, with the odd grunt and growl from Derika. (which, was really hot, by the way.) The silence unnerving, however. But he was more than certain than any attempt at conversation would be met with another snarl that Scott had been graced with or a  _'Shut up, Stiles,'_. He should be used to it, but he wasn't.

Halfway to the road to her house, which he really should mean as the forest, Derika groans in a bout of unadulterated pain and begins clawing off her jacket, tossing it in the back. Stiles tries his best to  _look away_  and chastise his teenage mind for that really dirty mental image being received right now. He tried to remind himself for what felt like the tenth time during the drive that Derika looked nothing close to attractive whatsoever dripping blood and pale as hell. But he couldn't help but crush on her anyway.

He pulled out his phone and tried calling Scott. Four rings, no answer. He tried again. And a third time. At this rate, both him and Derika wanted to maul Scott as equally as bad right now.

"I bet he's probably making out with Allison right now..." he grumbles, making a move to stow his phone back into his pocket.

He wasn't expecting a reply from Derika. "Text him," the young Hale wheezed, wrapping what he had distinguished as her good arm looped around her stomach as she let out another groan of pain.

Stiles looked at the young woman with unease. "Okay.." he muttered before pulling out his phone, sending a quick text of ' **Did you find it?** ' to Scott, which really did nothing in portraying hoe truly frustrated he was.

It took quite a while before a reply came his way (Five minutes.  _Five minutes_.) and by then Derika had started twisting and turning, seeming quite content with the mutual silence. She started at the sound of his phone, eyes flickering to his face for an answer.

' **Need more time.** '

Well, she got one, but it sure as hell wasn't the one she wanted.

Stiles was frustrated. His face twisted in annoyance, practically slamming his phone down on the space between them. And the closest thing to take out his frustration on was the wolf writhing about next to him.

"Hey, try not to bleed out all over my seats, okay? We're almost there," he grumbled, glancing back at the road.

"Almost where?" Derika didn't even look up, but her tone was pretty defeated.

He sighed, as though it was obvious. "Your house?"

This time she  _did_  look up, quite startled, in fact. "What? No, you can't take me there..." There was a hint of dread in her voice, why, Stiles had no clue.

"I can't take you to your own house?"

"Not when I can't protect myself."

Stiles gave a sigh for about the hundredth time that day, pulling up on the shoulder and shutting down the Jeep. They were going to talk, whether Derika liked it or not. And from what he'd seen, Derika didn't like talking at  _all_.

When he turned to her, she looked up, and for a moment, he nearly regretted snapping at her. Nearly.

"Okay, level with me here. What happens if Scott doesn't find your little magic bullet, hm?  _Are you dying?_ "

As soon as she looked away, he knew that was a yes. "Not yet. I have a last resort," she said after a pause.

" _Derika_..." He groaned, very much wanted to slam his head into the steering wheel right now. But it would probably break, he thought with a guilty little pang. "What do you mean, what last resort?!" Either she was literally driving him crazy, or Derika Hale was just naturally hard-headed. Know what? Let's go with both.

Derika winced again and started peeling her sleeve up, revealing the bullet wound. The veins along her slender arm were elongated and practically pulsating. And the wound itself... was borderline  _disgusting_. It made him want to feel like vomit. It looked like something from  _Autopsy_.

"Oh my god,  _what is that_? Is that contagious? Ugh,  _Derika_ ," Stiles figured he probably sounded like a whining kid, and the annoyed look Derika gave him confirmed it all.

"Start the car.  _Now_."

What Stiles  _wanted_  to say, he couldn't. Because Derika was still a lady, and even if she didn't act like one, it was as far as gentlemanly went of him not kicking her little hot werewolf ass out of the car for barking orders at him, in the state she was in. Instead, Stiles simply glared at the woman before him.

Derika turned, rolling her eyes. "Start the car, or I'm going to rip your throat out," she amended, eyes flushing with whatever willpower she had left, " _With my teeth._ "

For a moment, Stiles just  _stared_  at her with incredulity. But there was some credibility in her gaze, and Stiles was pretty damned sure that even in her diminishing state she probably could carry out her threat. But that wasn't the only reason he started up again and reversed, heading down the other road.

* * *

"What am I supposed to do with her?" At first, driving around Derika Hale might've sounded like a good idea, but not while she was bleeding, on the brink of dying and being plain hardheaded. Stiles on just on his last nerve, and for once, he couldn't even look at Derika without wanting to explode. Wait, nevermind. That was just his teenage mind going off topic, as usual.

"Take her - somewhere, anywhere," Scott said on the other side of the line, not sounding so confident or sure himself. Not to mention  _unhelpful_.

"Oh, and by the way, she's starting to  _smell_ ," By this point, he didn't care that Derika was now glaring daggers straight for his skull. It was only the truth.

"Wait - like what?"

"Like  _death_."

He heard Scott sigh. "Okay. Take her to the animal clinic."

Either Scott was out of his mind with having no clue what to do, or he'd actually cracked this time. "Wait, what about your boss?" he asked, like it was the most obvious thing to reconsider ever.

"But he's gone by now. Look, there's a spare key in the box behind the dumpster."

Stiles leaned back with a heavy sigh. Derika would kill him. Better she knew who was the instigator of this little plan before baring her teeth at his throat. He handed the phone over to her. "Here, you're not going to believe where he's telling me to take you."

Derika just looked annoyed as she took the phone, placing it by her ear. "Did you find it?" she asked, in a lackluster tone which was such a downfall as opposed to the usual bite of her sharp voice.

Scott gave her an earful. "How the hell am I supposed to find  _one_  bullet?! They have like a million. This house is like - the fricken Wallmart of guns."

"Look, if you don't find it, then I'm dead, alright?" It was a miracle she was even still  _alive_ , Stiles thought.

"I'm starting to think that wouldn't be such a bad thing."

Derika was suppressing the urge to roll her eyes. "Well look at it like this: The Alpha called you out against your will, and he's gonna do it again. Next time, you either kill with him, or you get killed," She pauses, and Stiles could swear it was for the theatrics of it, "So if you wanna stay alive, you need me. Find the bullet."

She then hung up, and tossed Stiles his phone. "Get me out of here," she mutters, and it sounds like a command, but not quite.

"Whatever, princess," Stiles muttered back in annoyance, starting back up the Jeep again.

Thankfully, the drive to the animal, which was filled with the mild worsening of the pungent odor from Derika's bullet wound, not to mention her growls and grunts (which, by some miracle, had stopped being hot a  _long_  time ago and now annoyed the hell out of him) wasn't that long. Stiles had tried to help her out, but Derika being Derika, stubborn as ever, jerked out of his grip and attempted walking on her own. In any other situation, Derika Hale lacking every bit of idealistic flawlessness he was used to her having would have been hilarious, but not when the thought of her actually  _dying_  was at the back of his head. He sighed heavily and wrapped an arm around her waist, helping her across to the side of the clinic. Luckily, Derika saw she was in no position to struggle and opted to lean against him, until he let her go to get the keys and open the slide-in garage door.

As the young Hale brushed past him, his phone beeped. Stiles looked down, reading the new text from Scott.

' **Bullet case had nordic blue monkswood written on it. Ask Derika.** '

He turned back to Derika, who was currently panting, slick with sweat and sitting on a couple of what seemed to be animal feed bags, one of her jean-clad legs outstretched as her head thudded softly against the wall. Yeah, looking at her was definitely a 'no'.

"Does nordic blue monkswood mean anything to you..?" He tried to ask as callously as possible, gaze averted.

"It's a rare form of wolfsbane," she answered almost immediately, her free hand still clasped tightly around the wound as she inhaled another sharp breath. "He has to bring me the bullet."

"Why?"

Viridescent irises seemed to bare her soul as the young woman heaved another shallow breath. "Cause I'm gonna die without it."

Stiles didn't know what to say, or do for that matter. Instead, he just ended up staring at Derika with widened eyes like the biggest idiot ever.

When he finally found his voice, Stiles had no idea what to say, either. "Uh... okay... then we need to get you out of here. Can you actually walk or are you gonna' pull another stunt where you end up falling flat on your face?"

This time, Stiles didn't blame her for looking up with glare. She didn't say anything, most likely because it would be a shot to her pride, but got to her feet and reluctantly extended her good arm out to him. He didn't waste time in looping his arm around her slender waist again, letting her drape her arm over his neck as he proceeded to take her out of the garage space.

"You know, thinks would have gone a lot more smoother if you'd let me  _carry_  you like I offered back in the Jeep," he grumbled, letting her go to unlock the door. But Derika just gave him one of her complicated-but-clearly-annoyed looks before rolling her eyes, limping through the doors.

"You're not my Prince Charming, Stilinski," Derika grumbles, spanning her hands out against the examination table. There seemed to be dog hairs on here, not that she minded. Also, her statement seriously offended him.

"...I could be!" he spluttered with a certain indignant.

Derika looked up and glared. "We'll talk about why the Big Bad Wolf and Prince Charming are hooking up  _after_  Scott gets his ass here, okay?" she barked, and for once, he could believe that there was some semblance of humor somewhere in that blackened soul of her's. Even if the fairytale metaphors were getting a bit stale.

Derika shot him a glare and walked over to the other side of the room, searching for something. Stiles took note of the death grip the older woman managed to maintain on her wounded arm, as she bent over and started shifting through some of the stuff. He decided to just - let her do what she wanted, checking his time ever so often.  _Where the hell was Scott?_  Derika was going to bite his head off if he didn't show with her magic cure-thing. Bullet. Whatever. It's not like it mattered anyway, Derika seemed to already have her mind set.

However, he didn't expect her to bring him a fucking  _saw_.

Hesitantly, he picked it up with an unabashedly horrified expression, fumbling even though the unexpectedly small device was held into both hands. Stiles wasn't even sure his was how you started it, but tried anyways. He sighed and dropped it back on the examination table.

"Oh my god," he groaned, half horrified, half  _disturbed_  by Derika's nonchalance to  _sawing her arm off_. Oh look, she was already starting on her little blue string to mark off where he would _cut off her freaking arm_. The thought itself seemed to delay his reaction to the fact that she had taken off her shirt, leaving only a white, tight fitting vest on. "What of you bleed to death?"

"It'll heal if it works," Derika replied evenly, voice muffled by the string in her mouth, struggling to tie the string around her arm.

Stiles sighed, turning away again. Her wound seemed to have gotten worse, if that was even possible. Plus the images that were swirling through his mind right now were rather unpleasant. And not even in the good way.

"Look, I dunno if I can do this..." he started, only to be cut off by Derika.

" _Why not_?"

"Well... because of the cutting of the flesh, the sawing of the bone and especially, the  _blood_."

Derika groaned in exasperation, and he could see her eyes roll. "What, you faint at the sight of blood?" She wasn't even making fun of him this time, just mildly irritated.

"No, but I might at the sight of a  _chopped up arm_ ," he pointed out.

"Alright fine, either you cut off my arm, or I'm gonna' cut off your head," he managed to heave through pained breaths, glancing up at the younger boy with such a bravado of impassiveness it made Stiles want to throw his hands up in frustration.

Which is what he did - albeit tamely. "Dude, I'm so not buying your threats anym- " Stiles didn't get a chance to finish his sentence, because Derika  _collared_  him over the table with her good arm, her slender hand curling into a fist into his shirt.

"Okaay - fine, totally, I'll do it," he assured her quickly, a bit panicked and slightly overwhelmed by her warm breathing on his neck. It scared him and... excited him at the same time. But the latter was more embarrassing than the former, unfortunately.

The young Hale still hadn't relinquished her grip, but when he felt her falter he knew something was wrong. She leaned over, _thank god_ , and immediately threw up some black substance. Stiles wasn't sure it smelled, but it looked disgusting enough.

" _Oh god_..." he moaned as soon as Derika's grip let up, staring down in horror, "What the hell is that?"

"It's my body... it's trying to heal itself..." All she could manage was a husky grunt, leaning over the side of the table.

"Well, it's not doing a very good of it..."

She looked up at him suddenly. "Now, you gotta do it now," she said urgently, looking down again as a new wave of pain caused her arm to spasm.

Stiles's gaze flickered from her to the saw. "Look, honestly, I don't think I can..."

"Just do it!"

"Oh my god..." the younger boy groaned reluctantly reaching over for it and attempting at positioning, taking in a deep breath. Was this really necessary? He would have a talk with Scott, tonight if it had to be. "Alright, alright...Alright, here we go!"

He was mentally preparing himself, when he though he heard Scott. "Stiles?"

"Scott?"

His best friend appeared out from the corner. His gaze immediately focused on Stiles, holding the saw directly on Derika's arm. "What the hell are you doing?" he yelped in horror.

Relief finally hit him, and Stiles let out a relieved laugh. "Oh god, you just prevented a lifetime of nightmares."

"Did you get it?" He heard Derika grunt, and Scott immediately handed her a medium-sized, golden bullet. She straightened, trying to keep a steady footing, her gaze unfocused. But Stiles noticed that a little too late.

"What're you gonna do with it?" He asked, curious.

His question seemed to take a few seconds to register, before she finally replied. Or started to, anyways. "I'm gonna, I'm gonna..." Her speech began faltering, and so did her grip on the bullet right before she started collapsing, the bullet slipping out of her hands. It rolled on the floor and into the vent, just as Derika hit the floor. Scott went to find it before what little time she had was out of reach.

That left Stiles to actually... wake Derika up.

With that thought itself, he knew something stupid would happen.

"Derika?" Stiles's brows furrowed together as he crouched down next to her, cupping her face in his hands, trying to pat her awake. But she was too deep in unconsciousness for that to actually work, he realized. "Derika, c'mon, wake up?" Why the hell was he getting  _choked up_  at her refusing to wake up? He was going to blame it on fear. Yep.

"Scott, what the hell are we gonna' do?" he asked, and his current state reflected back into his tone.

"I dunno!" Scott replied back, his own voice strained as he reached into the vent. "I can't reach it..."

"She's not waking up..." he worried his lower lip, not even sure why he was talking right now. His hands preened against her shoulders conspicuously, in hopes of the action waking her up. Goddammit, Derika. "I think she's dying. I think she's dead."

After that, he didn't really pay any attention to Scott, just hoped that he would get the goddamn bullet before Derika was actually dead. Because she might be a pain in the ass and just outright hard-headed, but he didn't want her dead. He'd never want her dead.

"I got it!" He heard Scott shout, and relief flooded him again.

"Please don't kill me for this..." he muttered low to Derika, and for some stupid, undeniably unknown reason, he leaned down and pressed his lips to her cold ones. Well - they weren't as cold as he expected. Really warm and... nice, actually.

Then he felt her suck in a surge of breath, pushing away against him. When he looked up, there was a shocked but still impressed Scott. Derika's main concern wasn't him, however, it was getting her arm healed. Scott moved in and helped her to the table, here she was able to steady her hands. She took the bullet and bit off the cap, emptying the wolfsbane from the bullet. Both Stiles and Scott watched, intrigued. Derika then reached for the lighter and lit the wolfsbane. It sparked up, causing both him and his best friend to rear back in surprise, but still couldn't take their eyes off of it. The spark convulsed into a thin blue smoke, and Derika quickly gathered it up in her palm and placed it firmly over the bullet wound, wincing and pressing the pad of her forefinger against it. Her head jerked back, and the she-wolf let out a roar of pain, collapsing back on the floor. Squirming on the floor, the groans of pain and the quick jerks of her hips were  _not_  PG, Stiles thought to himself idly, trying to look away, but not finding the heart to. Until everything, the whole wound itself and it's repercussions disappeared all into a thin line of a lighter blue smoke.

"That was...  _awesome_ ," Stiles breathed out, and he didn't mean the softcore porn featuring Derika Hale he's just witnessed by that. Not yet, anyways.

Derika groaned again and sat up, seeming more like herself by the second.

"Well, are you okay?" Scott asked her, being the concerned one.

But all she did was look away briefly and roll her eyes. "What, besides from the agonizing pain?" the she-wolf grumbled, starting to get to her feet.

"...Guessing the ability to use sarcasm is a good sign of health..."

All that earned Stiles was another glare.

"Okay, we saved your life, which means you're gonna' leave us alone, you got that?" Scott said, but he didn't sound too sure himself, "O-or if you don't, I'm gonna go back to Allison's dad and I'm gonna' tell him everything-"

"You're gonna' trust them?" Derika asked, a flare in her gaze, "What - You think they can help you?"

"Well - Why not? They're a lot freaking nicer than you are." Well, that, Stiles had to agree with. Yes, even though he'd never met them.

Derika seemed amused, and bitter at the same time. It wasn't a bad look for her, but scared the living crap out of Stiles. "Yeah, I can show you exactly how nice they are."

Scott seemed confused. "...What do you mean?"

Derika cocked her head, a small quirk to her mouth as the usual impassiveness returned to her gaze. "C'mon and I'll show you," she said simply, motioning to the front door.

Scott nodded uneasily, already frustrating towards there. "Alright..."

Stiles made quick to follow, but Derika stopped him. "No, not you, not after your little stunt earlier," she hissed, and the glare of her eyes made it pretty clear what she meant: the kissing thing. Stiles gulped, "I hear you crystal clear."

Luckily, she didn't try physically maiming him in any other way, and stalked of to pick her trusty leather jacket and Henley of the floor before heading out briskly after Scott, leaving Stiles to his Jeep as they took the Camaro.

* * *

Where Derika took Scott was the Beacon Hills Crossing Home. Which only confused him. But it seemed as though Derika didn't care as much, already heading straight as Scott lingered about, closing the car door.

"What are we doing here?" he asked while trying to catch up to her. Scott idly realized that he looked like such kid, tagging behind his mom. No - Derika was only about nineteen, twenty? Cool older sister would be a better term, as his gaze drifted to her hands, tucked into the confines of her leather jacket, as per usual.

They went inside, which Scott was a little confused about - Weren't here like, appointments and stuff? Then he realized they were, Derika just didn't seem to care about the normalcies of common and social courtesy. And right now, he was definitely her accomplice.

The room they went in revealed a man. He seemed to be in his late thirties, with a type of hairstyle that might have been popular in the nineties. He was stationed to a wheelchair and seemed... immobile. Scott hovered over Derika's shoulder, glancing with uncertainty between the female and the man. She had retreated back into that stoic mask; the one that made him feel like she was feeling guilty over something.

Scott hesitated before asking, "Who is he?"

"My uncle," Derika replied, her voice just a bit lower than a whisper, jaw clenching. "Peter Hale."

"Is he... like you, a werewolf?" Scott could have phrased that better, but at least Derika didn't look at him like he was an idiot, like when Stiles said something exceedingly stupid to her. But he guessed it had something to do with her uncle.

"He was," she replied after a pause, expression contemplative, "Now he's barely even human. Six years ago my sister and I were at school, and our house caught fire. Eleven people were trapped inside. He was the only survivor." There was an unfamiliar variable to her tone, one he'd never heard her use before, not even about her sister. It was... haunting. But Scott tried to push his empathy aside.

"...So... What makes you so sure they set the fire?" He couldn't help but ask.

"Because  _they_  were the only ones who knew about us," Derika finally replied, looking up at the younger boy.

"Then... they had a reason."

That seemed to have pissed Derika off, because she turned to glare at him. "Like what? You tell me what justifies  _this_."

Then, she took a hold of both sides of the wheelchair and twisted it around, revealing the sickly-maroon burn that expanded over the other side of Peter Hale's face. Scott felt his breath catch in his throat, swallowing in thickly. It was almost as bad as the bullet wound Derika had earlier.

"They say they'll only kill an adult, and only with absolute proof," She scoffed, her eyes flashing the more she had to stare at the ghastly burn, "But there were people in my family that were perfectly ordinary in my family in that fire. It's what they do, and it's what Allison will do."

"What are you doing?"

They both turned to see the nurse. "How did you get in here?" she asked in an accusatory tone, glaring at them both from the doorway. But Derika seemed perfectly unfazed.

"We were just leaving," the she-wolf replied smoothly, and tugged Scott by the arm. But he still couldn't help but look back on the scarred disposition of Peter Hale. Did Allison's family really do that to him...?

* * *

Stiles didn't know why, but Derika was kissing him. He wasn't complaining either, because it wasn't one of those butterfly pecks, she was full blown making out with him, and the quick, dirty sweeps of her talented tongue made him want to moan into her mouth. He wasn't even in the position to wonder how the hell she had just magically materialized in his room, because the position right now? He wouldn't trade it in the world. In fact, he doubted any guy in their right mind would refuse  _Derika Hale_  in their lap, kissing them senseless.

Her hips ground against his, and he was distantly reminded of the thrusting of her hips earlier that night, the swirling image he'd tried extra hard to get out of his head. Stiles felt himself harden and with a groan, shifted to lay back. Wrong move.

Derika climbed over and straddled his waist, palms lightly brushing over his bare chest before slender fingers knotted at the back of his neck, and her mouth was on his again, kissing him with a passion he had no idea she was even capable of. Stiles was becoming acutely aware of her chest pressing against his own, the pertness of her erect nipples doing things to him he wasn't proud of. As great as kissing her was, he kind of wanted to sit her down and just look at her, memorize every curve and slope of that glorious body before kissing and licking every inch of her. Yeah, he  _definitely_  had it bad for Derika Hale.

He couldn't contain the moan at the tip of his tongue as her mouth descended on his neck, leaving a trail of hot, open mouthed kisses. She let him palm her through the elastic material of her bra, even though he was more than a bit clumsy. All Derika did was smirk, rolling her hips back on his as she straightened.  _No amount of porn could have prepared him for that_ , was his excuse for groaning out again. Nimble fingers fiddled with the clasp of her bra and within seconds, it was off.

Stiles didn't even get to see whatever more-than-pleasant image his mind had conjured up as Derika's breasts, because his brain had decided that was enough and he woke up with a sweat. After some realization, Stiles groaned in disappointment. Mostly due to it all being a sexual fantasy, and also that he didn't get a chance to even finish it.

The cold shower couldn't wait.

* * *

_Review your thoughts?~_


	6. 1x05

Scott groaned and rolled over, using his pillow to block out the rapping noise at his window. But, instead of being just a random bird or a loose tree branch like he had hoped, it was something else entirely. A certain prickly, leather-donning someone, actually. And now that she was ruining his relationship with sleep, Derika Hale was increasingly becoming the bane of his existence. A cold gust of wind whipped against his frame, (Didn't he close the windows?) causing the teenager to tighten his covers, squirming slightly. If he could just try, maybe he could go back to sleep...

"Scott. Wake up."

Nevermind.

"I'm already awake because of you," he returned with a grumble, shifting around in his covers. The only thing he was wearing were  _boxers_. Not only was this was a complete invasion of his privacy, (not that Derika cared or anything.) but it was also embarrassing. If only Stiles could see him now - Wait, he didn't want that. That was gross, and awkward. Plus his best friend still had the hots for Derika, so better not mention this entire incident on the whole.

_"Like, she scares me... but I kinda' get like, a boner at the same time..."_

The words from their conversation earlier that week made Scott snort.

Apparently, everyone was right about him maybe having ADHD, because he had completely forgotten that Derika was still there. He could almost  _feel_  the young Hale's glare, followed by a sudden press at the edge of his mattress, which caused the teenager to uneasily shift farther away, for fear of his life.

"This isn't a  _joke_ ," she snarled, and Scott was made to instantly regret not paying attention. He had also forgotten that Derika didn't just pop in to scare him for shits and giggles. Something must have happened.

"Your Alpha made another appearance. Killed some guy down at the movie rentals, and attacked some kid. I think he goes to your school."

His mood quickly went from interest to dread. Worrying the wall of his inner cheek, Scott leaned over to turn on his light. What greeted him was the sight of a somber Derika Hale, dressed in her atented assemble of leather, black, and jeans that seemed to be made  _specifically_  for her.

"D- Do you know who?" He asks, the slight stutter due to the heaviness of his tongue. Morning breath was gross- Focus, Scott, Focus, he thought amadantly to himself.

But Derika seemed to be amusing herself with his current position- clutching his sheets to his chest like a pristine virgin. He  _was_  a virgin, but that didn't matter. But the way- his thoughts died as the older woman rolled her eyes, stretching over to retrieve a shirt and a pair of jeans - both previously dangling precariously from the back of a chair. She then proceeded to toss them to him, which he begrudgingly accepted.

"Get dressed," the brunette rolled her eyes, tucking a loose strand of hair into place. "We're gonna' check it out. And I think I saw him on your lacrosse team. He was acting like a diva when the police got him out of there.

Scott froze, aldready having gotten up and midway through putting on his shirt. "You still watch me at lacrosse practice?" he accused, slightly miffed. But the description was as good as any. It nearly made him laugh, but didn't in case Derika decided to do more than glare this time. "Yeah, that must be Jackson," he replied, unabe to mask the chuckle evident in his voice.

Derika narrowed her eyes. "No, you idiot, I saw the game, remember? But that's besides the point. If it's the blonde guy with the 'my dad will sue' look that kept blocking you during the game, then yeah. Him."

"'My dad will sue'?" Scott couldn't help but snicker, pulling on a hoodie after slipping into his jeans. "Thanks, I'm using that one next time I see him."

"Whatever, McCall. Can we go now?"

"Yeah, sure, just let me-  _Derika_ ," He groaned, finding himself staring at an empty window. Scott heaved a sigh, and followed soon after. Better get used to this.

* * *

Paired with the aching feeling of rejection and slight arousal, not to mention annoyance at his M.I.A best friend, Stiles parked the Jeep in front of the dilapidated Hale House. Quite begrudgingly, the teenaged boy closed the door to to his Jeep carefully. No matter what bad mood he was in, Stiles would never hurt his Betty. She was too precious for that. Although the tempting concept of driving far, far away, out of Beacon Hills still occupied his mind, (he was taking this rejection a little too far.) Stiles turned and trudged his way to the Hale House. At least he was mentally prepared to be shot down by another female occupying his thoughts.

He scuffed his fist against the door; the action lackluster, barely a proper knock. It didn't matter, because Derika had thay superhuman hearing thing and should be able to hear him, right? He then tried the lock, because if she wasn't, er... home, (if you could call this a home, perhaps a shell of one...) there was no way he was giving up a golden opportunity like this.

It was unlocked. Figures, since Stiles was beginning to think that there wasn't a lock in the first place. He pushed open the door, ignoring the obtrusive creak of the worn hinges. "Hey, Derika, I found ou-  _Holy fu_ \- " He  _choked_.

The reason being? Derika Hale dangling from a pull-up bar with ridiculous ease, wearing nothing but a beige sports bra, moderate jean shorts that seemed  _made_  for her, and a thin sheen of sweat coating her body. One that was much more curvaceous that his fantasies seemed to offer, he noted. Whilst Stiles was busy trying to find his breath and  _not_  ogle the spitfire female (Lydia  _who_?), Derika had noticed him and narrowed her eyes, letting go of the bar only to land easily on her feet. Other than the narrowing of her eyes, the young Hale didn't seem so bothered. But then again, guys probably always looked at her this way, Stiles thought to himself with a pang of both guilt and jealousy. Like he'd have a chance with her anyway.

A slender hand curled into a fist and positioned at her waist, fixing the boy with a narrowed stare. "Well? You said you found out something. What is it?"

Stiles gulped inwardly, best efforts going into trying  _not_  to look at her chest, or anywhere else of interest in general. Instead, the younger boy found himself staring at a hole in the wall with an unexplained interest.

"Well, y-y'know, now doesn't really seem like a good time for you, so I'll j-just..." Finding himself stuttering an idiot, (as per usual) he made an inexplicable gesture towards to door, prepared to run. But, his plan was foiled the moment Derika grabbed him by the shirt and collared him against the nearby wall. A small drizzle of dust was picked up by the wind due to the sheer force (which was going to hurt in the morning, he wondered dimly).

Little did he know how much of a regular thing this would become, pressed into a vertical surface by a growling Derika Hale. Maybe if the she-wolf didn't look as though she was about to tear him apart, he would be enjoying this. But the force of fear overruled any other feeling. (and, thankfully, his hormones.)

"Not so fast, Stilinski," she snarled, prodding a finger against his chest. Stiles audibly  _gulped_ , afraid to look the older woman in the eye. Perhaps she forgot that no less than a week ago, he had tried to  _kiss_  her. This position? Was not helping that specific need. But she was talking again. Better stop thinking and listen, even though Derika mostly spoke in growls and snarls.

"If it's about the Alpha, it can't wait. I've been trying to reach Scott  _all day_  but he switched off his phone, the idiot." Oh look, there was something they actually agreed on. "So, indulge me, for once. What do you know?"

He rolled his eyes, despite their close proximity. "Well, you know, it's on my phone, and I kind of need to use my hands to show you that, you se- " Apparently already done with his sauciness, the young Hale gave a perfected eye roll (Did she like, practice in front of a mirror or something?!) and loosened her grip, stepping back and grabbing her shirt off the floor, thank god. Stumbling for a second., Stiles nearly forgot he owned a phone. And - Oh. Lydia. No, no, Derika. What was wrong with him today? Stiles thought with despair, trying to glance away from the tanned expanse of a toned stomach, busying himself by pulling out his phone and going into images.

A now thankfully clothed Derika stalked over to look over his shoulder, her dark brows scrunching together as emerald hues stared down at the image with intent. "Huh... It could turn into a full wolf. Can you send those to me? I want a better look."

Stiles could already see a problem with that. "Yeah, I can, but I don't have your num- " Before he could finish his sentence, Derika had plucked his phone out of his hand and quickly entered her number, handing it back to him.

"Now you do," she said simply, head lifting in a curt nod. "Just, no social calls, okay? And send me those pictures. I'll take a look at them later."

"On it," he replied quickly, and in the matter of moments, they were sent. He ought to delete them off his phone, but he should robably show them to Scott first. "Okay, sent. I... I should be going..."

Derika nodded again, and shifted away from the teenager. Stiles found himself feeling inexplainably cold as she did this. "Okay, Stilinski."

"See you, Derika..." He mumbled, and, not wanting to overstay his welcome, ducked out of the door, closing it on his way out.

Okay, so Lydia might have rejected him in the worst possible way, (Seriously, he was  _nothing_  like Jackson. What even.) but hey, he got Derika's  _number_.

* * *

By the time he got home, Stiles was completely exhausted by his emotions. There were so many questions being raised by his mind, and so many mixed feelings swirling from within. Some made his chest clench with the familiar express of anger, but without the hot flash of red behind his eyes. Scott didn't bother to help his dad. That mountain lion could have torn him apart. Allison had her father, a  _hunter_. He couldn't help the twinge of anger every now and then when concerning his best friend. Perhaps it was a bit selfish, he thought to himself whilst climbing the stairs with a bowed head, but this was his  _dad_. The only family he had left.

But, disregard that for the while. There was something bigger going on and they couldn't see it. That mountain lion being placed out there in the open was no coincidence. It was ploy, and he'd bet anything that it had something to do with the Alpha. 'Animal attacks' sound familiar? He'd have to hash that out with Derika, and that caused an unsettle in the boy's mindframe. Usually, it was with Scott. But Derika was his next best option, seeing as she knew more about this, and was most likely even more emotionally invested in this whole thing than even Scott, who was bitten by the Alpha. But she came here looking for her sister, Stiles was suddenly reminded by the voice in the back of his head, and she wasn't going to rest until she found out what happened to her. Family.

And speak of the devil. Although his room was dark as the door swung open, Stiles could make out the familiar silhouette of the she-wolf, heavily leaning against the window sill. She was waiting for him, Stiles noted dimly, no hesitation before turning on the light.

Emerald irises barely faltered at the sudden obtrusion of light, but flickered up to meet Stiles's gaze, her eyes on his making the teenaged boy feel more than just a bit apprehensive.

"I heard about what happened. Mountain lion?" The soft snort that complemented her derisive tone said it all. Derika was disbelieving of this as well. "Bull if you ask me. Someone tried to cover up."

His gaze fell upon this nodding slightly as he moved to drop his bag on the floor. "Too much of a coincidence. Is that why you're here?"

Straangely enough, Derika wasn't that intimidating. Well, he was still wary of her, but today, the she-wolf seemed... intinuitive. Meaning less scary. And he? Somber. But perhaps it was just the rage and exhaustion, at a slow boil, hindering his senses. It would explain why he wasn't internally freaking out at the mere notion of Derika Hale in his room, or quailing under the woman's usual icy stare. But, tonight would be one of those rare instances where Derika didn't clash against him as an unyiedling force, whether it be physical or metaphorical. Because by the faint lines around her eyes, the young Hsle was just as tired as he.

"...where's Scott, that idiot. I think he's still with Allison or something. Like that's important. The Alpha made a move, and honestly, I wasn't expecting it."

"...Huh?" Being so immersing in the musings of his mind, Stiles honestly hadn't been paying attention, and apparently he should have, before Derika gave him a long stare, thankfully followed by the roll of her eyes.

"Nevermind, Stilinksi," Derika sighed, leaning off the window frame. The action caused a ripple in her trusty leather jaket, loosely streched around petite shoulders. Her usual Henley, check. Dark-jeans-he-should-not-be-lingering-on, check. "Anyway, I had a good look at the pictures you sent me. The most I could figure out by them is that the Alpha? Probably male. It can do the full shift, but so could Laura, so my guess is that it couldn't do the full shift before. But that isn't important. What's important is figuring out who lanted that mountain lion. Did your dad say anything about security tapes, cameras, anything?"

"My dad doesn't tell me anything," Stiles gave a snort, daring to steal a glance at the older woman, "But I guess I could try to find something out, I dunno..." A thought entered his mind, one that caused his blood to run cold. "Derika... you don't think that the Alpha's connected to the law enforcement, do you?"

She shifted, idly walking by his desk, pushing in his chair with her foot before bracing her hands against the wooden surface. Contemplative features greeted the anxious teenager before Derika shrugged. "I don't know. But I've been to the police station, thanks to you and McCall," The woman's momentary glare caused a wave of sheepishness and a nervous chuckle to resonate from the boy, "...And no, I don't think anyone there was a wolf. At least to my knowledge. Some wolves can conceal their scent." A wicked smirk tugged at her lips. "Like me. But look around, Stilinski. I'll do my own digging."

And with that, Derika eased off the desk and returned to the window, already lifting it open. Stiles heaved a sigh and nodded, even though the brunette was no longer facing him. However, the sound did not go unnoticed by the she-solf, because not a second later, a piercing forest-green gaze was upon him again.

"You okay, Stilinski?"

Stiles managed a small upwards tug of his lips; the ultimate failure of a smirk. "Don't strain yourself, Derika. I'm okay."

Though the she-wolf seemed disbelieving, Derika nodded slowly and without a farewell, disappeared out of his window before he could blink properly. Heaving another sigh, Stiles trudged over to close the window. The whipping wind was already starting to take it's course in her absence.

 


End file.
